Gateways
They found him sitting on the floor beside her, in a cold room that had the smell of death. His body was marred with ugly green and black bruises on chest and back, that stood out in stark contrast to the pale, gray-green cast of his skin. A large discoloration ran along his jaw-line. Spots of scorched skin marred his face and chest. His hands were pulled behind, wrists locked in a restraining device. Jim knelt and tried to communicate with the Vulcan, who seemed oblivious to their presence.
McCoy shook his head over T'rin, and then moved on. "Jim, he's too cold. We have to get him out of here." McCoy ran his hands over Spock, checking for broken bones. The normal feverish-like warmth of his flesh was gone. He felt cold and clammy, like a corpse. They worked on getting the cuffs off and finally found a release catch. Helping Spock to his feet, they left T'rin's body, stiff and white in death, where it lay.
The pain in his mind was intense.It threatened to block his thoughts as he struggled to send them out to her; struggled to shield her with an extension of his own mental barriers.Her thoughts were a scream of terror, flowing through his body like an electric shock.Pain mounted to an intolerable level and his mental shields reacted in self-defense, bringing all of his strength to block the damage being done.His mind was caught in a whirlpool of madness...
The pain lessened slowly.He opened his eyes.The room was silent and empty.He struggled forward, finding the force-field gone.His muscles protested the movement with weak twitches of exhaustion.T'rin lay on the floor before him, eyes open and unmoving, her face pale, her lips parted slightly.He tried to open the link between them.The sudden jolt of pain that shook him made him dizzy.He knelt slowly beside her, pushing against her arm gently with his knee, calling out to her.He knew, from her eyes, from the dead place in his mind where she used to be, that she was gone.Time passed unmeasured. Growing dangerously cold, feeling the effects of shock setting in, he made no attempt to fight off the lethargy or suppress the pain which filled his mind with an empty darkness.
They took him down the corridor to the clinic, where at least there was some warmth. McCoy listened to the diagnostic program run its analysis. Life-size monitor screens showed nervous system, skeletal system and circulatory system in holographic detail. A strangely accented, baritone voice began the narration.
"Subject is suffering from hypothermic shock. Subject's internal temperature is fifteen degrees below normal for a Vulcan of equal mass and age."
"We should try to get something hot inside him, Jim. His pulse is too slow. His internal temperature is dangerously low. Death from hypothermia is a real danger." McCoy watched a warming field of energy glow and surround Spock's body. They covered him with an insulated blanket and fed him a hot liquid the diagnostic program had prepared. Still oblivious to his surroundings, the Vulcan would swallow what they poured carefully into his mouth.
"Spock! What happened? Where are the Klingons? Can you remember?" Jim tried to question him several times, but the Vulcan was silent, his eyes opaque and unreadable.
He knew they were moving him, knew he was slowly growing warmer, but it seemed so infinitely far away.It was too much of a burden to try and answer questions that seemed to come to him through a fog of light and shadow.He felt the pain of her death and the loss of the link to her mind, but that, too, was strangely distant.The larger, more intense agony came from a part of his mind anchored in chaos.It threatened to engulf him.
"Well, he's warmer, at least. That's some consolation. He does have some minor neurological damage which may account for the shock. Apart from that, he doesn't appear to be severely injured. No broken bones, no internal injuries, just some bruises, some minor burns. Damn it, Jim! I need to know what the Klingons did to him." McCoy watched the blood pressure/temperature gauge continue to rise.
"Bones?"
"The best thing we can do for him is to let him rest. So far, the recommendations of this diagnostic program are all correct." He watched the monitors carefully, still suspicious of the alien technology.
Jim paced the control room, stopping in front of a bank of monitors. The Vulcan lay in that strange twilight sleep in which his eyes remained half open. Jim sat down in front of the clinic's screen. "He knows what happened, Bones. He knows where the Klingons went and why they came here in the first place. If there were only some way to reach him." He did nothing for a moment, and then walked down the corridor. Spock lay quietly, still enveloped by the warm, radiant energy. Jim placed his hand over the Vulcan's where it rested on the diagnostic bed. He closed his eyes and was very still for a moment.
"Jim? What are you doing?" McCoy came to stand by them. "Jim, don't! Don't try to communicate with him, not when he's like this. It could be very dangerous. Jim!" McCoy pulled Jim's hand away. "Don't! He's had some kind of injury to his mind, that's obvious. I just don't know what it is. He's in a kind of catatonic state, like shock. It could be very damaging to him and to you, if you try to reach his mind now."
Jim pulled away in frustration.
"I know you want to find out what happened, but it's just not possible at the moment." McCoy tried another approach. "Why don't you eat something, Jim, and get some rest. We can't do anything more for him now."
"I'm not hungry." He started to pace. "I'll try to find our communicators and then we should do something with her body. There's no facility here to put her in statis, as far as we know. The only choice we have is to bury her." He sighed and looked over at Spock. "I'll take care of it. Stay here with him."
He had searched the rooms where they had been, and decided the Klingons had taken their equipment with them, when he located one of their tricorders with T'rin. Jim knelt beside her for a moment. Even in death her face was elegant in it's exotic beauty. He felt the loss and suspected the Vulcan did as well, but to what extent, he didn't know. Taking the tricorder back to McCoy, Jim retrieved T'rin's body.
He walked through the cavernous hall filled with glowing cubes and stopped at a gateway he knew opened onto a temperate and fertile world. T'rin's body, stiff in death, was awkward to carry. Jim stepped up to the edge of the force-field shimmering with green mist. Slowly he stepped through, letting the strange pulling sensation take him and push him along. Immediately a warm breeze and the sound of animal cries reached his ears. He blinked at the strong sunshine, so different from the stale, cold, and shadowy place where he had come. A fern-like tree offered shelter for her body. The soil was soft and warm, and smelled of life. He dug with his hands, until he found a shard of a bamboo-like plant on the forest floor. A few hours of steady work produced a large-sized hole. When he looked up he saw Spock standing beside him.
"Spock! Are you all right? Where's Bones?" He looked around but the Vulcan appeared to have come alone.
Spock found a piece of his own bamboo and began to dig. Jim thought about ordering him to stop, to rest, but the Vulcan seemed intent to finish the work. Only the sounds of the forest creatures and the rustle of the jungle leaves broke the silence.
"How soon can we make contact?" Jim was peering over Spock's shoulder, anxious to use the subspace radio in the communications center adjacent to the control room.
"I'll make the attempt now, Captain." Spock passed his hands over the controls, lightly touching the sensitive panel. "This is Commander Spock, calling the USS Enterprise. Our shuttlecraft has been disabled and we have been marooned on a deserted planetoid. We have found supplies in what appears to be a deserted underground complex of a technologically advanced civilization. We have sufficient rations to last for the immediate future, however, we have been contacted by a Klingon scouting patrol moving through this system. They have departed, but may return at any moment. Enterprise, do you read?" He repeated the message several times.
"My screen shows the message has been sent, Captain, but at this distance—"
"I know. At this distance, it's doubtful if they'll even hear it."
"What do we do, Jim, if they don't?" McCoy was hovering in the background.
"We wait. They'll come looking for us when we miss our rendezvous time."
"It's a big galaxy, Jim."
"You have a better idea, Doctor?"
"Why don't we try to fix the shuttle? There must be enough parts around here we can cannibalize to use."
"The port nacelle is heavily damaged. The technology may not be compatible and we may end up doing more harm than good, if we try to use an energy source when we don't know what we're dealing with."
"Then why don't we use the gateways?"
"There's no way of knowing, Doctor, if the gateways are truly doorways to other worlds, or simply highly detailed and realistic representations of planetary environments." The Vulcan glanced up at McCoy from a control panel.
"Do you really think this place is nothing more than a sophisticated zoo, Jim?"
"I'm not sure what it is, Bones. My main concern is contacting the Enterprise and getting us out of here. With no Klingons on our tail, of course." Jim passed a hand across the back of his neck. He was tired.
"Why don't you ask Spock, Jim? I'm sure he knows what the Klingons wanted."
"I have already told you Doctor. I don't remember how I came to be a prisoner of the Klingons, or what their purpose was in coming here." Spock looked away, absorbed in an energy scan.
"Let it rest, Bones." Jim thought it best to change the subject. He was in no mood to listen to a confrontation. "We'll do what we can with what we have. As long as you're here, why don't you look through those catalog entries and see if you can recognize Earth, or another Federation member."
McCoy didn't argue, but sat down at a console and placed his hands on the panel in front of him. He thought of the cubes of pulsating colors in the Great Hall of Lights and before him appeared colorful, glowing images, floating in the air, one after another. A soothing feminine voice narrated points of interest as each world passed for his review. They looked like tiny jewels, snippets of worlds that appeared in all their animated glory. There were thousands of them, and it was strangely intoxicating to think of how easy it would be to lose himself in them. His attention wavered for only a moment. He mistrusted the unfamiliar technology, but most of all, he was troubled about Spock, who was becoming more withdrawn as each hour passed. His doctor's intuition was shouting at him. There was surely more to the Vulcan's strange behavior than simple memory loss.
"It is remarkable that you survived."
"My father and brother did not."
They were walking among the rows of force-fields, shaped like cubes of glowing energy, in what seemed to be the heart of the station.
"When did you discover that the enclosures were actually doorways?"
"I was never sure.I saw the holograms in the catalogs and heard the narrator describing the flora and fauna.I stepped through a force-field and found myself in another world."
"That was either very brave, or very foolish."The energy fields around them were reflected in the waves of her hair, shimmering like bands of red and gold auroras in the black of night. She lifted her face, classic in it's symmetry, to him.
"What choice did I have?To remain here, alone, perhaps for a very long time?Or try to find a more hospitable world in which to live?You have seen the worlds that are represented.Many of them are very fertile, and temperate."
"In logic, it could be perceived as an unnecessary risk."
"I am not Vulcan, I am Ruselan."
Spock was silent for a moment. "Yours is a Vulcan colony world.I had thought the fundamental rules of logic governed your life as well."
"There are those who hold to the tenets of total logic, but there are also those of us who believe that emotions have a place as well.It was the reason my ancestors removed themselves from the dominance of the Home World.Some of us prefer to make our own way, not to be so strictly bound by tradition."
They stopped before a cube that pulsated with golden light.
"Why did you return here?"
"When I turned and looked back from where I had entered the force field, I saw a heat shimmer in the air.I thought I should try to go back, to be sure if I could. I might need it as an escape route, if I decided the world I had chosen was unsuitable. My guess was a correct one, for as you see, I am here."She searched his face, perhaps for approval. "What scientist would not relish the opportunity to study so many different species, so many different biologies.I am a zoologist.How could I not take the chance?"She gestured toward the cube. "If you are willing, I can show you a very beautiful world."
"Jim, I'm worried about Spock. Haven't you noticed how quiet he is?"
"He's exploring a new technology. Why wouldn't he be absorbed by it?"
"You know what I mean. He's becoming more withdrawn. He hardly talks to either one of us."
They watched the Vulcan from the other side of the room, playing the control panels like a master organist.
"You want to examine him again?"
"How much you want to bet, Jim? You order him to cooperate and he'll refuse."
"I've already talked to him about it. He says there's nothing wrong. He says he's fine."
"And you believe that?"
"You already told me you couldn't find anything wrong. Are you telling me now, you think there is something to find?"
"Call it Doctor's intuition, or what ever you want. We still don't know what the Klingons did to him."
"He says he's fine, you say you can't find any evidence of damage. What do I base my judgment on? Your gut feeling?"
"You've used that criteria before for your own judgments, Jim. And how do we know that there might not be side effects from this? Why would the Klingons go after Spock and T'rin and not us? Don't you think that's suspicious? What kind of respectable Klingon would leave three Starfleet officers alive to tell the tale? Why torture T'rin? What were they after, Jim?"
"I don't have the answers, Bones. Maybe they left Spock for dead. He was almost dead. T'rin was. As to why they left us alone-maybe they found the damaged shuttle and figured we'd starve to death and solve their problem for them. Or maybe they didn't want to hang around in case a Starfleet rescue materialized. It could be they were in a hurry and were looking for something more valuable than us."
"What could be more valuable to Klingons than the three of us?"
He sighed. "I don't know." He rubbed the back of his neck again. "The Enterprise picked up our hail and will be here in a few hours. You can examine him on board ship. Until then, drop it." He looked over at Spock, who was completely absorbed with his work, and devoutly hoped McCoy was wrong.
"You have said you were in route to a conference on 6thgeneration warp technology."
They were standing at the lip of a moonlit pool, enchanting in it's wild beauty.Ferns, covered with tiny white blossoms drooped down, their frilly edges touching the water's surface.The stars were mirrored in the gently rippling pond, stirred by a soft, warm night breeze.
"Yes.My father was to deliver a paper that was rather controversial.He believed that present warp technology would soon become obsolete.He was to announce his development of a new theory of gravitational dynamics, one that would no longer rely on warp theory as we know it."
"What was his theory?"
"My specialty is life science. I had not studied the complex formulas he used. I was involved with my own research, and the mathematics were rather beyond me.I'm sure if you were to contact Seril, my father's colleague in his research, a summary of his theory could be forwarded to you.You have a reputation, even on Ruselan, as a galaxy-class scientist."She noticed that the silvery moonlight seemed to cast a halo of blue light, like a crown, about his head.
"You believe this alien complex could be used against the Federation if it were to fall under the control of hostile forces?"
"Yes, Admiral. The technology we encountered there was extraordinary. The possibility of instantaneous travel to thousands of different worlds, the computer system's sensitivity to thought rather than a spoken command, would make the technology critical to the Federation's development in this area of space. Not to mention the unusual behavior of the Klingons." Jim was making his report in real time in his quarters, rather than by delayed tape, due to the sensitivity of the information.
"You have reported that you and Doctor Mcoy were not tortured in any way."
"That's true, Admiral. We were detained in a holding area, but not injured. Commander Spock and the civilian female, T'rin, were tortured, however."
"And what is her background?"
"We have only a brief bio on her, Admiral. She was an exozoologist and she lived on one of the Vulcan colony worlds."
"And Commander Spock reports he has no memory of what took place."
"That's correct, Admiral. He was suffering from hypothermic shock when we found him." Jim spoke quickly before he could be questioned further. "Admiral, I'd like for the Enterprise to remain in orbit, so that we may further explore this technology."
"We have your report, Captain. You can expect a decision by 0700 hours tomorrow. Remain in orbit for the present, and report any Klingon activity in the area immediately."
"Yes, Admiral. Kirk out." He reached over and called the bridge. "Mr. Sulu, increase our orbit another 30,000 kilometers. I want maneuvering room in case the Klingons show up again."
"Aye, sir. Taking us out."
They walked along the forest floor, springy and fragrant beneath their feet.Tiny, iridescent birds flitted around them, lighting their way where the moon's rays were blocked by the leafy canopy above.
"This is a pleasant place.If it weren't for the death of my father and brother, I could be happy here."
"You are alone, then?"
"There is my mother, on Ruselan.I must return and tell her of their deaths."
"I offer my condolences, on your loss."
"Mr. Spock, please report to the bridge." It was Uhura's voice. "Mr. Spock, report to the bridge immediately." The intercom noise startled the Vulcan out of what was suppose to be a deep meditation. He had failed again to achieve healing. The upper levels of his conscious thought were under his control, but whenever he tried to go deeper, to repair the damage the Klingon's assault had done, he felt his mind begin to slip into that black mass of chaos that was threatening to engulf his mind. He would try again, but as each day passed, control eluded him, and he grew weaker with the effort.
"Mr. Spock." The Captain was touching his sleeve lightly, standing next to him at his bridge station. "You must really be into that report you're working on. I had to call you three times." Jim gazed
at the dark eyes, letting his concern over Spock's preoccupation show. "Are you all right?" he asked softly.
Spock had the grace to look as if he might be embarrassed. "My apologies, Captain. It won't happen again."
Jim took advantage of the moment and pressed for an examination. "The Klingons really did a number on you. I think you may have been more affected than you realize. Why not let Bones check you out, just to be sure?"
Jim expected an argument, but what he got was acquiescence. "Yes, Captain."
Swirling emotions filled his mind.He tried to make sense of it, tried to put some order to the chaos that invaded his consciousness.Klingons faces, insulting and violent, pushed themselves forward. Waves of searing pain assaulted him.He heard her screams and tried to reach out to her mind, to block the pain…
"I haven't found any evidence of damage, Jim. The only effects that register are slight signs of stress, such as fatigue and a slightly elevated pain reading, the same results I would get from you if you were tired and had a headache. There just isn't anything else, Jim." They were sitting in the Doctor's office late into the duty shift. "If it were any one else but Spock, I'd say they were overworked and needed a vacation."
"What do you want me to do, Bones? Tell him to go to bed?" Jim took a drink of his brandy.
"Yes, if it would help."
"I really need him on duty now, Bones. You know how short handed we are. You know as well as I do we have to wrap up our preliminary report on this complex by tomorrow. By the way, are you finished with your reports? I'm still waiting for them."
"I'll be finished in time." McCoy looked over at his computer workstation, still littered with readouts and data tapes.
"Good. The permanent research teams should be here at 1130 hours tomorrow." Jim stood to leave. "We'll be in the vicinity of Vulcan in a few weeks. Why don't I recommend to him that he take shore leave then? Would that fit your prescription, Doctor?"
"If that's the best you can do."
Spock stepped through the door to his quarters with both relief and dread. In logic, he knew another attempt at meditation was necessary, but with each attempt the mental disciplines faded further from his conscious control. He was just beginning to reach the first levels of relaxation, when the call from Vulcan came through.
"Is there anything I can do?" Jim looked up at Spock from behind his desk.
"No thank you, Captain. This is a courtesy call only. Master S'han has been prepared for death for some time now. He is very old. He may be beyond the point of recognition."
Jim frowned slightly, disturbed by Spock's apparent indifference to the death of his family's elder.
"I don't want to pry but you've been very distant lately. If there's anything I can do-"
"No, thank you, Captain."
Jim stood up and walked from around behind his desk. "I want you to take shore leave on Vulcan, Spock. Bones and I have been very concerned about your health lately. I think you need it."
"That will not be necessary, Captain."
"You don't understand, Mr. Spock. That's an order. Don't come back aboard ship for at least a week. We'll be here that long ourselves, waiting for this conference to be over. Do I make myself clear?"
Spock heard the command tone and answered quietly. "Yes, Captain."
He found the Vulcan Master lying on a stone tablet in the middle of a cool dim chamber, illuminated only by the setting sun. Dark shadows had already begun to claim the mountain passes, as he walked slowly toward the stone where the Master lay. Far in the distance Spock could hear the night birds starting to call, getting ready for their evening hunt.
With great reluctance, he sat near the master's head, keeping a silent vigil. After a time, the Old One turned his head and opened his eyes. They were still bright, but Spock could see the pain moving behind them, the shadows under the sockets. The face of this Master was ancient, for he had held on long past the time when others would have let go of the pain and allowed themselves to die.
The old hand gestured and Spock braced himself for what was to come. With cold, shaking fingers the Old One touched Spock's warm, living flesh and the younger Vulcan suppressed a shudder. Not that he resented the cold touch or the fact that etiquette demanded he comply, it was just the necessity of hiding his thoughts from his trusted teacher, with shields up and inner turmoil hidden.
The contact was actually rather brief, but to Spock it seemed an eternity. Gentle fingers of thought reached out to embrace his mind. The first layers of thought were easily accessible, but deeper probing caused pain. The Master lowered his hand and closed his eyes again. Thinking that was the end of it, Spock turned to leave. In the tongue of ancient Vulcan, he heard his familial name called out from behind. The tone was gentle, but Spock knew the effort it took to speak. With his eyes closed, the younger Vulcan listened.
"Spock, what distresses thee so?"
Spock shivered.
"Thee would hide thy thoughts from thy Master and teacher?"
Spock turned slowly.
"Elder, I would not shield my thoughts from thee, were it not necessary."
And that was all he could answer and still keep his composure. He was very tired, and seeing the Old One like this, knowing he had caused a disturbance in what should have been a simple goodbye, grieved him deeply.
"Thee are in pain, Spock. Thee cannot open thy mind. What injury hast thou endured?"
Spock kept silent. Before him lay the only being on Vulcan, with the possible exception of a Master of Gol, that had the discipline needed to heal him of his injuries. His only choice was to allow this Elder to attempt to heal his mind, this Old One who had taken it upon himself to train Sarek's wayward half-human son, whom Sarek could never seem to influence. The alternative was to fall deeper into a self-imposed, exhausted isolation and despair. The Master was waiting.
"Master S'han-"
"Silence. No words are needed. Come here to me."
How could he refuse? To do so would be to wound the only Vulcan that had ever allowed him access to a Vulcan soul. What Spock had found had astonished him, and became the model for his own life. There was vast intelligence and deep wisdom tempered by an even deeper compassion and control. This being, who was very old even then, had shown Spock nothing but the most tender sympathy and tolerance. It was something Sarek could never seem to do. From this Old One and his human mother, Spock had learned what a Vulcan could of love. With great reluctance Spock gave his answer. "The injuries to my mind are temporary. The healing process is progressing."
"Spock!" It was a gentle reproach. "Thee would shame thyself with falsehood?"
"It is no falsehood, Master. I am in control of the healing process."
For a moment, there was no response. Then Master S'han spoke very quietly. "In thy thoughts, there is a name above all other names. Tell me of 'Jim'."
"Captain Kirk is my commanding officer."
"He is thy t'hy'la."
Spock hated to continue the conversation with the Master growing weaker, but he had not yet been dismissed. "Yes." The last thing Spock wanted was to bring Jim into this. But whether it was the growing darkness in his mind or the fact that he was just too tired and couldn't fight the pain any longer, Spock couldn't tell. He was prepared to open himself up to the Old One, when the Master made his request.
"Bring this human to me, Spock." The voice of command could not be ignored. He had heard it all his life, from Sarek.
"Yes, Elder." He resigned himself and was prepared to take his leave, but the Master closed his eyes and did not speak again. Spock could do nothing else but leave, his mind occupied with how he was going to explain that a very old Vulcan had requested Jim's presence and would not be denied.
"I have a priority message coming in from Vulcan, Captain. It's Mr. Spock." Uhura smiled down from her communications console.
Jim's face brightened. "Down here, Uhura." He turned to the view screen in anticipation.
"It's marked private and confidential, sir. Shall I pipe it down to your quarters?"
"All right," he nodded, wondering what would cause Spock to flag his message that way. "You have the con, Mr. Chekov."
"I have a personal request to make of you, Captain." Jim studied Spock's face. There didn't seem to be any signs of stress.
"Yes?"
"The Elder of my family, Master S'han, has requested that you attend him."
"Spock, why would a Vulcan Master want to talk to me?"
"I cannot say. Will you attend?"
Jim had reached the end of his patience, and was more than ready for an explanation from Spock. "Does this have anything to do with what's been going on with you lately?"
"I beg your pardon, Captain?"
"Never mind, Spock. Tell him I'd be honored to come. When should I beam down?"
The ancient Vulcan watched Jim from where he lay, withered and small on the large stone pallet. "Spock has named thee t'hy'la in his thoughts. But there is no bond there, to fulfill it. Spock has not offered this to thee?" His voice was thin but steady. The dark eyes were totally void of emotion.
"I don't know to what you are referring, sir."
"Spock has suffered an injury to his mind. He is in great pain and must find a way to heal this wound or he will lose that part of his mind to madness. Has he told you of this?"
"No!" Jim began again and lowered his voice. "No, sir, not directly, but I suspected something was wrong. I've been very concerned about him for several weeks."
"Thee are the way to healing for Spock. Because he has named thee t'hy'la in his thoughts, he must fulfill that bond in his mind and in his heart to be healed of his great pain." The Master studied Jim for a moment. "Another mind that brought him comfort is now gone from him forever. Thee must take the place of that bond that was ripped from his mind. Are thee willing to do this?"
"I am willing to do whatever it takes for Spock get well."
"Then go to him now, and offer thy mind to him, so that he may be healed."
Jim found the Vulcan standing in what appeared to be a rock garden. Fierce Eridani was setting and the sky looked as if it were on fire. Long black shadows crept out from under the plants and rock sculptures of frowning gods of war. Away from the thick stone walls of the estate the heat was oppressive.
"Master S'han tells me that there is something I need to offer you, so that you can be healed."
The Vulcan remained silent.
"You know that I will do anything I can to help you."
Spock seemed oblivious to his surroundings.
"I'm not sure what it is that the Master wants me to do, but whatever it is, you only have to ask and it will be done." The shadows lengthened into pools of black. A warm breeze began to move the sand between them. Spock stirred. "You have no concept of what you offer."
"Then tell me."
"You could not survive the pain. It would destroy you."
"A lot of things in this galaxy have tried to destroy me, but it hasn't happened yet." Jim walked slowly toward Spock, trying to keep his mind clear of his own emotions. "Why should this be any different?"
"Master S'han was in error. You cannot help me."
"Certainly not, if you keep refusing to let me." Jim was shocked at how ill Spock looked. It seemed to have come upon him in the last few hours. "You know I'm not afraid."
"And that will be your downfall." Spock's eyes were glazed with pain. That Jim could read it so easily told him of how deep the injuries were. "You have no fear," Spock whispered. Those last few words were tinged with sadness.
"Then let me help you."
"Do not tempt me." The Vulcan's eyes boiled with a black rage Jim had never seen before.
"Spock, let me help you." Jim came closer, keeping his posture as non-threatening and neutral as possible. He spoke quietly, reaching out with his hand, palm up, in a gesture of peace.
Spock focused on Jim's hand as if it were a lifeline. He tried to dissuade the human one more time. "It may affect your ability to command." His voice was tinged exhaustion.
"I'll take the risk."
Spock closed his eyes and laughed softly, deep in his throat. But his forehead was creased with a frown. Jim wasn't quite sure if it was truly a laugh or a small groan of frustration. Maybe it was a little of both.
"How many times have I told you not to take unnecessary risk." The Vulcan shook his head from side to side slowly as if he had given up on a difficult student. "Illogical."
"Risk is my business. I'm good at it." Jim came closer, still holding out his hand. "The offer still stands."
Spock gazed at him, his eyes burning with lack of sleep. "How can you offer when you don't know what will happen to you?"
"I don't need to know." Jim offered his best smile, trying to charm one very reluctant Vulcan. He thought for a moment Spock would refuse, but the answer came in the ancient Vulcan language.
"You know I can't understand that." Jim shrugged his shoulders slightly, and continued to smile softly.
Spock closed his eyes and lowered his head, yielding to fatigue. Jim could just make out his features in the growing darkness. Night breezes began to moan as they moved around and through the ancient standing stones. The Vulcan seemed to come to some decision and straightened. "I said, 'Thee are t'hy'la.And thy heart is the heart of the la matya.Thee are a lion and worthy to be sword brother.'"
"Then what are we waiting for?" True darkness fell as Spock came slowly toward him.
"We must go to see the Old One. The power of healing is within his mind."
Spock opened himself completely to the human and his Elder. The wave of pain that shook him was dizzying. Jim felt the sense of himself swept along and consumed by the power of the meld.
Images and feelings bombarded Jim. There were thousands of years of past lives and racial memories of long dead priests and adepts from the Hall of the Ancients. Vulcan minds kept after death, placed there for centuries, became models for postulants seeking wisdom in mental disciplines. The knowledge of millennia, the understanding of the Mind Lords, became a part of Jim. Here, in their one mind, Spock found the strength and cool logic he needed to quench the black fire that consumed his mind.
If Jim had thought he knew what a meld could be like before, that had been an introduction. This was the graduation ceremony. He felt the ruthless power and the passion of Spock's warrior inheritance, what it was like to be consumed by a fire that could fill a warrior's mind during the heat of battle, or during the heat of mating. He knew the need to kill, to taste his opponent's blood. It was an urgency like air to breath or water to drink. And there was still more... the depth and scope of brilliance… logic so perfect in its reasoning as to be startling, like the center of a vast computer brain... a place where there was a great desire to touch another's mind, and spend itself in consuming that mind… an intense curiosity… a hunger to know…and an abyss of loneliness when it couldn't be... the potent mind that was the Master's found the dark place in Spock's thoughts and swept it all away, like so much smoke and ash….
He held her face between his two hands, surprised at how deeply her touch moved him.He opened his mind to her, felt her grief as if it were his own.He felt the purity of her thoughts, the fine logic and sensitivity of her emotions.He embraced the core of pain and loneliness and she gave it all to him with a courage and honesty that moved him…
The heat of their mental union spread throughout his mind.Soon it would enflame his body as well.He touched his face to her hair, inhaling a delicious scent…
He tried desperately to extend his own shields, but it was too late.He felt her mind die, and the knowledge engulfed him with a rage he had not known he could feel.He strained against the force-field.Crackling energy stung and burned his face and chest.He pulled desperately on the energy-cuffs that held his wrists. He felt warm blood trickle into his palms.The Klingon laughed, a leering, ugly sound.He felt his mind explode with the desire to take the Klingon's head between his hands and crush the skull...The rage he felt erupted from his throat with an animal's scream…
Jim opened his eyes and found himself lying on a stone bench deep in shadow. The night sky beyond the doorway was strewn with stars, breathtakingly close in the thin atmosphere. He tried to sit up and then did it very slowly, as his head began to pound at the first movement. He stood carefully. Spock came toward him, walking with more assurance. Jim watched for signs of illness, but there were none.
He looked around the room and then back at Spock. "Where's the Master? I wanted to thank him." Spock walked slowly toward the doorway leading to a courtyard. "The Master wishes to remain within the meditation gardens."
As they walked Jim considered the images still fresh in his mind.
"I think I owe you an apology. I should have paid more attention, been more aware of what was happening. I didn't understand what the Klingons had done to you." Jim felt the hurt and anger travel through his gut. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Spock sighed. "I believed I could repair the damage on my own. I was wrong."
It was an admission of defeat that Jim had rarely heard Spock make before, and it filled him with tremendous sympathy.
"We're all vulnerable, in one way or another. It could have been me. I've just been very lucky. Do you think this new weapon of the Klingons could pose a threat to Vulcan?"
"I have been in council chamber with some of the Elders of my Family, while you were sleeping. They are considering a course of action."
"What were the Klingons after, Spock?"
"Master S'han found within my mind the formulas they were searching for. That, too, is being discussed by the Elders."
"Formulas?"
"Yes. For a new theory of warp propulsion that will revolutionize space travel."
"Is thatyour theory?"
"No. It was T'rin's father's development."
They were following a well-worn path toward a stone structure. Jim took advantage of the rapport of the moment. "Spock, what does t'hy'la mean? The Master mentioned it several times."
"On Vulcan, it can represent the complete union of mind and body. At a touch, a bond can become as complete as a meld, or as simple as a passing thought. It is a type of the link that T'pring and I shared when we were children, at our engagement ceremony. Between friends such a bond is not usually formed unless the friendship is very close."
"Like us?"
"Yes."
Jim tried a more personal question. "You and T'rin had a deep bond, didn't you?"
Spock said nothing for a moment, and then- "She was my mate."
The honesty of that reply tore at Jim's heart. "Spock…. I'm so sorry…." The implications filled Jim's thoughts. "Were you in love with her?" The question was tremendously personal, as personal as those images of passion that had filled Jim's thoughts a few hours before…. images of T'rin in his arms, as if he were Spock….
The Vulcan looked at the worn stones of the path. "As I understand love, as I have learned from watching you, then yes, I was in love with her."
"Oh…" Jim's thoughts turned suddenly to another night…centuries ago…and to Edith and an antique automobile that struck her down…he heard her scream… "Spock…. I always knew it was possible."
"Possible?" Softly, very softly from the Vulcan.
"So much is possible, if you just open yourself up to it."
"Jim, such 'opening' carries with it a tremendous price. More than you realize. More so for Vulcans, than for humans."
"Yes. It does." Jim was speaking now with the passion of his convictions. "For Vulcans and humans. You've learned to trust my judgment in so many things. Trust me now when I tell you that you will come to understand that it was worth it." He touched Spock lightly on the shoulder and felt himself lifted out of the anxiety of the last few weeks.
They arrived at the stone structure which reminded Jim of a temple of sorts. Inside, on a raised stone dais, was the Master's body, covered in it's dignity with an intricately woven damask carpet.
Jim turned to Spock in surprise and looked in his eyes, stricken. " Spock…"
"It was his choice. It was time." Jim heard a thread of emotion in the Vulcan's voice, echoing his own. It was like a touch of vinegar in a fine aged wine. Jim took a step toward the Master. Spock stood beside him, waiting, his hand resting on the Master's still form. Then he touched the human's forehead lightly with his fingertips. Jim turned, slightly startled. He understood then, he was to reach out and touch the Master's still form, wrapped in the ancient carpet, still warm from the days heat. The circle was completed. The ancient words were intoned again, in a language that Jim could understand. "As it was in the beginning, as it is now, as it shall be through all the tomorrows, I make my choice."Spock reached for the lightest levels of thought, not needing to go deeper. He found acceptance there, and a fine willingness to open to him. "I name thee sword brother, fire brother.I name thee T'hy'la."Jim felt a tingling sensation at the nerve endings of his body that reminded him of an electric shock. He shivered, but not from the cooling, dessert night air. He saw in Spock's eyes and felt in his mind a deep sadness and was moved that the Vulcan would share this grief with him.
Good bye, Old One.
Jim swallowed and blinked at the dust and night wind that had brought the sting of moisture to his eyes.